This is a work of fiction any similarities between the characters, events, or locations in this story and actual locations, events, or people are purely coincidental.
© 2004 Warlord
I walked in the kitchen, to be greeted by Hannah with hugs and kisses, as one of Emma’s kitchen girls pulled off my boots. Hannah began removing my wet clothing. Soon I was naked in the warm kitchen, with Beatrice toweling off my hair and back.
Hannah summoned Caitlin to lead me to our third floor bedroom, as if I would be unable to find my way unaided. It was slow going to reach our bedroom.
Every woman I passed took time to greet me. Since they were naked in the private areas of the house, this was arousing to say the least. Miss Emma’s was a collection of the ‘best of’ the best looking women I’d ever seen in or out of any men’s magazine, ever!
Their greeting invariably was deep kissing with lots of tongue, with their body pressed intimately against me, while holding my cock and balls in their warm hands. There was no hurry as they held me in their arms. When they released me, the farewell included several soft strokes on my engorged cock. Then licking the pre-cum off their fingers. It wasn’t a tease; all of them made it clear that they’d finish, if I gave the least indication I wanted them.
Caitlin opened the door to our third floor bedroom. Krista, holding Mei was in the center of the big four-poster bed. Gabrielle and Jacinthe were on each side of them. All four of them were naked.
Jaci slid off the bed, with her eyes focused on my cock jutting in front of me. She approached on her hands and knees, kissing the inside of my knees, then slowly licking her way up my leg to my crotch. Jaci held my cock against my belly as she licked from my balls to the tip with long, slow wipes of her tongue. She paused, then she took my balls in her mouth. Releasing them she licked behind my balls, then sank back on her heels, looking up at me through her dark curls as her fingers continued their soft caresses.
Jaci leaned forward; the head of my cock disappeared past her ruby red lips. She leaned farther, engulfing more of my shaft until her bright red lips were at the base. My fingers were tangled in her black hair, as Jaci applied her tantalizing suction. I would not last long after the titillations in the hallway. Her lips no sooner returned to cradling the head of my cock, than I began spending, filling her cheeks to bulging with my cum.
Jacinthe released my cock, moving back to the big bed until she was positioned above her supine sister, Gabrielle. Jaci gently held Gaby’s mouth open as she drooled ribbons of cum into her sister’s open mouth. The sisters licked and sucked to capture every drop!
Caitlin pulled at my hand to break me out of my aroused reverie, watching the sisters’ display. Krista had her hands up in a welcoming gesture. I quickly joined her on the bed; she enfolded me in her arms, with Mei settled against my back. With Krista’s soft caresses I relaxed. My breathing, my pulse all slowed down matching my true love…
My eyes snapped open at the knocking. I was on my back, with Krista on top of me, her honey blonde hair obscuring my eyes as she looked to the door.
Hannah’s voice asked for me. I told her to enter. She stuck her head in the partly open door. “William, an Indian is asking for you. Says her name is Mourning Dove. She is at the back door.”
By this time, I was sitting on the edge of the bed. I stood up, pulling on my pants and a shirt. I stamped into my boots, then dropped one of the three inch barreled Schofields into my back pocket. I kissed Krista, then walked out to join Hannah on the stairs.
I stepped out on the back porch, to see a very pretty Indian girl, Mourning Dove, wearing loose blue cotton pants and a soft deer hide blouse with beadwork and antler buttons. Her dark hair was loose, hanging past her shoulders. She was astride a small dun pony sitting on a blanket. She gestured me closer. I walked out until I was next to her horse. Morning Dove softly said, “This is for you, William the hat.”
With that she held a small leather medicine bag. When I didn’t resist, she tied its leather thong around my neck, centering the bag on my chest. She said, “I am to join you on your journey, William the hat if you will have me. You and your companions are summoned. I will take you there.”
I stood quietly digesting her words. Reaching up touching the cross, dragon and bag, a switch closed in my head. I touched her leg, saying, “Wait here for me.”
Turning back toward the house I was at a dead run as I began yelling:
“Krista, Dan, Jan, Caitlin, Mei Bao. Quickly get dressed; arm up, we are going into harms way.”
At my shout, the quiet house became a beehive of activity. Kitchen girls ran to the barn while Hannah joined me, running up the steps to our room. Krista was already dressing in jeans and cotton shirt. Her regular holster of two short Colts in regular straight draw, with a seven inch Colt in a radical cross draw next to her belt buckle was in her hand. Krista took a Colt Coach sawed off shotgun.
I quickly found my jeans and shirt. I had my shoulder holster for my four inch barreled Colt next, with my seven inch barreled Colt under my right hand, with a short Colt in a radical cross draw. I grabbed my Yellow Boy and Burgess shotgun.
Hannah, Mei Bao and Gaby were dressed. Each took their Scholfield, Winchester and Coach gun. Jacinthe and Beatrice were right behind them.
Dan and Jan joined us. Jan carried her Winchester 38-55 with a short barreled Schofield as her sidearm. Dan was dressed in his Gi with his Daisho of katana, wakizashi and tanto in his belt. He held his staff and ten gauge sawed off shotgun.
Leading them outside, Caitlin was already standing next to Francis’s buckboard. Krista climbed up on Duke, while Dan mounted Red, with Jan up on Buttercup. Gabrielle, Jacinthe, Hannah, and Beatrice found four more horses, while Mei Bao joined Caitlin and me.
I sat for a moment, gathering myself. The oddest thing was the total lack of questions. Everyone mounted up and just waited!
Caitlin reached in my pocket, retrieving a cigar. She lit it, tucking it in my mouth after a soft kiss. Suddenly, from the barn, the calico cat ran out jumped up on the wagon to sit at my feet. This woke me!
With my Yellow Boy across my lap I pointed at Mourning Dove who led us out of the yard into the street and away from Deadwood.
The rain had stopped as we walked along strung out along one of the little used roads connecting somebody’s modest claim to Deadwood. We rounded a curve entering a large sloping meadow, with the road at the lower end. I stopped when I realized the meadow was clogged to overflowing with Indians!
The rest of my companions closed up behind me. The Indians for their part stood quietly on foot and horse back in two facing ranks with a wide open space between them. Mourning Dove pointed to the open space saying in a carrying voice, “They summon you, William the hat.”
I stepped down from the buckboard and without a backward glance I walked up to the roads verge to look up the line of Indians. I saw the Indians in groups as I recognized chiefs. Gall, Crow King, Two Moons, He Dog, and Shot In The Eye were in the group standing in that meadow. I walked up the rise into the meadow, between the ranks and among the horses. Mourning Dove dismounted was right next to me.
A dog soldier kicked his horse in front of me as he cocked the big hammer on his trapdoor Springfield. I reacted levering my Winchester pointing it at his chest saying, “Tell him, Dove. Tell him THIS is a good day to die. Tell him we sing our death songs together.”
A yell from further up the line caused him to back his horse into line out of my way. Now I noticed his kepi hat with its 7th cavalry insignia and the sergeant’s stripes on his blue shirt. All up and down the line I noticed the trapdoor rifles, colt cavalry model pistols and pieces of uniforms and hats.
Now I especially noticed the scalps. Every warrior had fresh scalps hanging from his horses bridle. Most had several!
I said softly, “It finally happened!”
That explained the war chiefs -- all had a hand in the Little Bighorn.
Mourning Dove observed, “Custer died for your sins, white boy.”
Before I could react to her statement another horse moved revealing a horrific scene.
A figure was staked out in the meadow in the center of the circle of ponies. I walked up to a stomach churning sight.
A female Indian, flat on her back in the meadow grass, was tied to two stakes, holding her arms wide. Looking closer, I realized that the stakes were driven through her hands. Her body was split, eviscerated as if gutting a deer. Her clothing was lying next to her, with internal organs neatly arrayed on them. Her pelvic bone was broken, her legs pulled up into an impossible split with each foot against one of the stakes through her hands.
She had been scalped, with her face peeled up exposing her skull above her eyes. Each eye had been plucked out, hanging by a nerve along the cheekbone. Her throat was cut until her spine was visible with her tongue pulled out through the gash
That was it -- I thrust my rifle into Mourning Dove’s hands as I stumbled to the road verge. Falling to my knees, I began vomiting. I brought up everything I had eaten for perhaps the past year! I sat back on my heels, wiping my mouth. Hannah gave me a canteen. I rinsed and spat a couple times.
I started to get up. A loud MEOW interrupted me as the calico launched herself at me, bouncing up into my arms. I walked back up the meadow, carrying a cat, expecting derision. There was no reaction as I rejoined Mourning Dove, who handed me my rifle.
Standing at the head of the Indians was a very old man with an erect posture and iron gray hair in two braids. He was dressed simply in leather leggings and breechclout with a white cotton shirt. He had no adornment or sign of rank. I could not tell if he was a chief or medicine man. His position here in the meadow seemed to indicate high rank even above the fabled war chiefs assembled.
I was standing in front of him as he gestured at the Indian girls mutilated body with some form of sign language. He suddenly smiled at my incomprehension. He gestured to a young brave next to him, who handed over an old deer hide.
The old man untied the deer hide opening it for me. Inside beadworks, porcupine quill and painting covered the ‘canvas’ -- this was the work of many days, perhaps even months, of effort.
I began to take in the details of the picture. With considerable shock I realized that it chronicled the crowd of Indians surrounding a staked out mutilated Indian maiden.
Just inside the rank of Indians the hide showed a row of people on foot. I immediately saw two blondes, a petite red haired girl, an Indian maiden and an Oriental in Cheongsam.
But my eyes were drawn to the center of the painting.
Next to the ruined body were four figures. Each one incredibly detailed, easily recognized, crafted with beads and porcupine quills.
A man wearing a white straw skimmer carrying a calico cat, a petite woman carrying a rifle taller than she, a short broad man in white with a long curved sword and a women with hair like sunlight holding a coiled rattlesnake in her right hand